


Embers and ash

by Mirai227



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: (sorry), A blank slate for a main character to look at the world from, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Culture, Death, Disabled Character, Drama, Ethics, Families of Choice, Family, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Human Nature, Intrigue, Isolation, Love, Manipulation, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Moving On, Politics, Truly living, finding where you belong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 12:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21270920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirai227/pseuds/Mirai227
Summary: Some people have strength to marvel at and fear. Some people have minds that tick constantly like a machine, producing strategy after strategy, orchestrating wars and board games without letting their humanity seep through. Some people are driven by fury, pure and simple and they always end up being the true monsters.Others have eyes that see that person hiding in the empty space behind you.Female OC who can see ghosts. I wanted to explore the effect death actually has on the Snk universe.





	Embers and ash

The Rauschenberg house stood, detached from the rest of the city with nobody coming to or leaving the building, save for the housekeeper who worked there and the occasional gardener or maid who kept the estate from falling into disrepair.

The same people never came twice.

When asked why, odd stories would be told. Stories of creaking floorboards and a different pair of eyes looking at you from the mirror. Stories of hidden whispers and laughter in empty hallways. Stories of the lady of the house who nobody, bar the housekeeper, had seen since the deaths of Lord Antonin and Lady Marie.

Today, in the cheery setting of a bar, alcohol loosened their tongues and stripped away inhibitions and fears as eager friends would ply them with beer until the select few who would take a job there finally started to elaborate on what was so haunting about that house. 

“I can’t really put my finger on it,” a young gardener called Benedikt was today’s center of attention. The bar was unusually quiet as everyone listened in, riveted.

“The only one I spoke to was Astrid-,” his eyes darted nervously to the middle-aged, stoic housekeeper of the Rauschenberg house. She was surprisingly well liked amongst the locals, but not one for gossip, evident in the disapproving set of her mouth and disappointment in her jade eyes as she watched everyone stare at him, waiting for more,

“-and she told me that the only one in the house was Lady Emilia and that she was cooped up in the library but that can’t be right, ‘cause I _ swear_ I saw _ somebody _ staring at me when I looked up. And even when I turned my head it was like… I dunno this _ feeling _ of someone's eyes on your back. It was just… strange and unnatural.”

“ It must’ve been the Rauschenberg girl,” the bartender, Rosie, said dismissively, ever the practical one, but Benedikt shook his head, vehemently denying this.

“That’s what I would’ve thought but she has bad legs, doesn’t she? And the window was upstairs. I saw the window to the library when I cut the bushes round the back. It’s definitely downstairs.”

Rosie’s expression remained unimpressed and without a beat she responded with, “Well then, it was Astrid. You have eyes, don’t you? Does she look able-bodied to you?”

“Well ...yes,” Benedikt reluctantly admitted, “But-.”

“But nothing. Your mind was playing tricks on you. Stop acting as if there is some great conspiracy behind it.”

Everyone turned to the source of the admonishment. Astrid Schmidt looked disapprovingly at the young man with the kind of exasperation and annoyance you often saw in the eyes of the older generation. A kind of irritation that also seemed resigned, for they could no longer bring themselves to care. Benedikt seemed to understand that he had upset the woman and paled slightly.

Rosie also noticed and immediately served her with a tankard of ale, a silent plea for Astrid to please, for the love of god, control her temper and not lash out at the poor boy for insulting what was essentially her second home. The message was clearly received as the woman simply picked up the tankard, raised it to her lips and drained it all in one go. This caused a few of Benedikt’s friends to laugh slightly in disbelief while Rosie silently thanked her lucky stars that Astrid has rigid self control.   
  


‘God knows the people here didn’t have much to begin with.’ She thought, grimacing at the pools of vomit settling beneath the counter and reluctantly going to fetch a grimy mop from the store room.

* * *

Astrid Schmidt woke up to the taste of stale alcohol on her tongue and a throbbing in her temple. She grimaced. Getting drunk on a work night was not a good idea but then again, every night was a work night for her so was it really wrong to steal a night where she could relax? After she had left the bed and stretched the stiffness from her limbs, she changed and embarked on her duties as housekeeper. Or she would have, had she not noticed scribbles in the dust underneath her windowsill. Astrid’s hand stilled on the doorknob and one of her eyebrows arched and her mouth set in a disapproving frown. The shapes in the dust were large and jagged and almost illegible. 

**_D__ O __N __’_ T**

Somehow Astrid managed to decipher the message and when she did her nostrils flared and she rolled her eyes.

“Come now, Bella, surely you know by now that Emilia won’t change her mind.”

For a moment Astrid thought that she had been left alone to her thoughts but then there was a sudden movement. The warning that had been scrawled in the thin layer of silt under the window was scratched out viciously and replaced with a desperate:

** _PLEASE_ **

Astrid may have felt sympathetic but all she could find in herself was a deep set, bitter contempt towards the _ bastards _ that had been halting progress for so long.

“If you’re looking to gain sympathy, don't bother."

Astrid imagined that the woman was probably shrieking every curse she knew and wailing to Sina to punish her hosts for their sins. Or perhaps she was just sobbing her woes into the years old shawl she wore, the picture of the tortured martyr. Either way, Astrid did not honor the woman by acting as though her feelings were even a part of the equation here. Turning sharply on her heel, she flung open the door and marched away while the invisible girl in the corner watched her retreating back with an inferno of hate burning in her silver eyes.

* * *

The library in the Rauschenberg house would probably be more aptly described as a hovel. Floor to ceiling, bookshelves had been crammed together across the tiny walls, laden with all manner of novel and record, allowing for only a laughably small gap to filter in sunlight through a grimy pane of glass. The hideous burgundy carpet was mostly hidden beneath piles of books that had been strewn across with little to no care. 

Emilia counted the coins slowly, methodically. The total amount would roughly be enough to purchase a good few acres of land in Sina. Or maybe even in a seat in the court. She would have been expected to invest in some pompous merchant she had never heard of. Maybe she could have spent it on a school in Maria. Instead she was using it on what was, in the eyes of every citizen in these damned walls, a worthless venture. After all, what could the Survey Corps do for her?

The answer to the question was simple. It was because, due to events yet to happen, an investment in such an institution would be a very wise decision indeed. At least, according to a certain someone seated beside her. 

"Someone" was a child with listless eyes and a small round face. She drifted just above the ground, chin propped on the desk, watching Emilia count the money with solemn grey eyes. 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fan fiction I've written for this fandom. I hope you like it.


End file.
